


A Heart So Wild

by seductivembrace



Series: Spuffy Episode Re-writes [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 15:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1987293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seductivembrace/pseuds/seductivembrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A multi-chaptered rewrite of "Wild At Heart" that incorporated a few other episodes... (Written in 2006)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> One of several episode re-writes to make episodes more "Spuffy". May include some dialogue from the episode.

_“Thanks for the relocate. I perform better without an audience,” Buffy told the vampire that had been chasing after her, suddenly stopping her headlong run and whirling around to confront him._

_She charged the vampire, delivering a spinning kick to his head, knocking him off balance. He recovered and the two engaged in hand-to-hand combat, both blocking blows that would be deadly to mere mortals. Sensing an opening, Buffy deflected the vampire’s latest punch and delivered a kick to his back, sending the demon to his knees._

_“You were thinking, what, a little helpless coed before bed?” she taunted as he struggled to regain his footing._

_The vampire, enraged, charged the Slayer, determined to kill the girl and drink her blood. She easily side-stepped the kick he attempted, swung about and delivered one of her own, followed by several punches to his stomach and face. Another kick from her sent the vampire tumbling over a trash can. Just as he regained his footing, she grabbed him by his shirt and threw him into a nearby lamppost. She whirled around, her trusty stake poised at the ready._

_“You know very well, you eat this late...” Buffy bent low and spun on her heels, rising just in front of the vampire to shove the stake in his heart telling him, “You’re gonna get heartburn.”_

_She stood up in front of him as the vampire clutched his chest._

_“Get it? Heartburn?”_

_She watched the vampire give her a shocked look before crumpling at her feet in a ball of dust._

_“That’s it? That’s all I get? One lame-ass vamp with no appreciation for my painstakingly thought-out puns. I don’t think the forces of darkness are even trying. I mean, you could make a little effort here, you know? Give me something to work with…” she complained as she walked across campus back towards her dorm room._

~*~

_“Watch your mouth, little girl. You should know better than to tempt the fates that way,” Spike’s eyes narrowed on the Slayer’s retreating form, his face twisting into an evil sneer as he continued, “the Big Bad is back, and this time, it’s...”_

His words were cut off as bolts of electricity tore their way through his body. The only thing saving him from whatever it was that was trying to incapacitate him was the fact that he happened to be standing on a ledge. Instead of falling backwards, he tumbled forward over the edge, disengaging the electric pokers protruding from his back. He landed hard, was momentarily dazed from both his fall and the electric shock that seemed to numb him from head to toe.  
  
It took a few moments, but Spike eventually managed to struggle to his feet, attempting to put as much distance as possible between himself and his would-be captors. He lifted his duster over his head, covering his platinum hair, and disappeared into the cover of darkness.  


~*~*~*~*~

Feeling a little restless at the lack of a challenge the vampire on campus had provided, Buffy bypassed her dorm and decided to conduct a quick patrol through the cemeteries. She was so busy reflecting on the lack of response the vampire she’d slain had displayed for her somewhat witty puns, she failed to sense the four vampires that were slowly stalking her now.

Too late to prepare herself for their assault, Buffy tumbled with two of her attackers as they threw themselves at her – sending all three of them to the ground. She reached for the stake she kept hidden in the waistband of her jeans, gripping it in her hands as she prepared to dust the two sprawled out beside her. To her chagrin, it was knocked aside by a third vampire who stood towering over the threesome.

“No need for that, Slayer,” the overweight vampire taunted.

“Fine! We can do this the hard way,” she agreed, swinging her leg forward to kick the vampire that had landed in front of her in the head, then kicking backwards with the same leg to deliver a blow to the midsection of the vampire on the ground behind her.

Free of their grasp, she vaulted to her feet in a swift movement, taking up a defensive pose as the four vampires encircled her.

_‘Uh oh. This doesn’t look good,’_ she told herself silently. Berating herself for her lack of awareness, she mentally prepared for the coming confrontation.

Then it happened. All four charged at the same time and Buffy could only defend while they repeatedly punched and kicked, eventually forcing her to the cold, damp ground. Refusing to give up, but sensing her inevitable defeat, she struggled against the vampire that now sat on her midsection, the other three holding her limbs firmly against the ground. Crying out would do no good; who was there to help her?

As the vampire lowered his head for the kill, Buffy waited silently, praying for him to make a mistake, some small misstep that would allow her to rise quickly to her feet and fend them off. He was just inches away from her neck when a growl from behind him caused the vamp to freeze in place.

The next thing Buffy knew, three of the four vampires holding her down – including the one sitting on top of her – were yanked off her body by a black blur. She didn’t waste any time determining who her savior might be. Her eyes honed in on the stake that had been knocked from her hands, and she kicked the vampire that still held one of her legs pinned. A quick back flip and Buffy had retrieved her stake, poised in a crouch and ready when he charged.

His mistake, as moments later, he was up close and personal with Mr. Pointy – the dust when the vampire disintegrated, floating around her crouched body.

Not wasting time to gloat, Buffy turned to the scuffle being engaged several yards away from her. She vaulted to her feet and rushed after the other three vampires – completely ignoring the cracked ribs and lacerations marring her arms and torso. Her savior suddenly seemed to be in need of saving.

She had grabbed one of the vampires, throwing him off her rescuer, when she stopped dead in her tracks and stared.

_Spike?_

So flummoxed by her arch nemesis being back in town and actually coming to her aid and trying to save her, Buffy just stood there and watched while he pulverized the two vampires he was fighting, completely oblivious to the third she had thrown off him.

But, Spike hadn’t forgotten. Managed to get out a, “Slayer, look out!” before he was sucked back into the battle with the other two once more. He wasn’t at his peak, the fall from the ledge had cracked a few ribs, and he was sure that his shoulder was dislocated. Hence, the fighting with one hand. What had possessed him to help the Slayer, he didn’t know. But when he had seen her pinned to the ground, helpless against their attack, something inside him had snapped. He didn’t think, just reacted – using the force of his body to throw himself at them and knock the majority of her captors away.

Buffy turned at Spike’s warning and brought up her stake, planting it in the vamp’s heart just as he reached her. The whoosh of exploding dust was overly loud in her ears, but she paid it no mind as she glanced back to see Spike fall to the ground from a nasty blow.

Shaking her head for even bothering to care, she engaged the two remaining vampires while Spike lay like the human equivalent of winded on the ground – some moral code of ethics preventing her from seeing him dusted quite yet. After all, he _had_ saved her life. Why he had, well, she’d find out once she finished dusting the two remaining vamps.

After a series of moves: several kicks to their heads and chests, several blocked punches by her, several punches landing by her in retaliation… and she set them up for their dusting. Spinning low, she caught the first one unaware, driving Mr. Pointy into his unbeating heart before he had a chance to block the strike.

The other, seeing himself suddenly alone and outnumbered, tried to turn and flee. Spike prevented him from getting far, tripping the vampire with his outstretched leg, allowing Buffy to swoop in and stake him from behind.

At the sudden noise directly in back of her, Buffy pivoted on her heels. She saw Spike rising slowly to his feet, cradling one arm that seemed to be hanging limply at his side.  
  
“Spike!” Buffy snarled, her eyes narrowing intently.  
  
“Slayer.”  
  
“What are you doing here? I thought I told you never to come back!”  
  
“You should bloody well be grateful I _did_ come back,” he growled at her before commenting sarcastically to himself, “And what the bloody hell am I saying?”  
  
His eyes narrowed as if trying to ascertain the reason for his sudden goodwill. He was evil, dammit! Evil vampires did _not_ go around helping people, and slayers, at that!  
  
Neither had time to dwell on the reasons for Spike’s sudden turnabout, because half a dozen men in camouflage green clothing – their faces covered by ski masks – suddenly surrounded the pair.  
  
Unconsciously, the two mortal enemies turned so that their backs were to each other to greet this latest threat.  
  
“There’s too many of them,” Buffy whispered just loud enough for Spike to hear.  
  
“Right then… we clear us a path and make for the trees.”  
  
“Ok… on three,” she whispered.  
  
“One.”  
  
“Two.”  
  
“Three,” the two yelled simultaneously, both turning to run towards the weakest link in the circle.  
  
Buffy plowed through the short soldier, making a hole for the two to slip through. A few steps later, and she had hit her stride; branches tore into her face and arms as she flew through the forest. She didn’t turn around to see if Spike was behind her, the little tinglies along the back of her neck assured her he was hot on her heels.  
  
Suddenly, gunfire erupted around her, causing her to crouch as she ran. Vampires were immune to bullets. Slayers, unfortunately, were not.  


~*~*~*~*~

She had to hand it to Spike; he’d never uttered a sound. They’d run for what seemed like hours before finally backtracking to the cemetery and the crypt the two were currently hiding in. Once he’d been assured of their relative safety, he’d collapsed on his stomach on top of a sarcophagus, the back of his duster riddled with bullet holes.  
  
Buffy stared in shock at the vampire passed out before her. She couldn’t believe it. Spike had done it again. He’d shielded her body from the bullets that had gone whizzing past them. Whatever had possessed him to _do_ such a thing? Feeling somewhat guilty at the abuse he had managed to take in order to protect her, she set about seeing if she could do something to help him.  
  
Carefully removing the shredded duster, she eyed the red button-down shirt bearing so many holes, the thing looked moth-eaten. She ripped the shredded material down the middle of his back, exposing an equally tattered black t-shirt beneath. It, too, met the same fate, and Buffy stood gaping at the bullet holes covering his bare back.  
  
She gently eased his boots from his feet, careful not to jar him – trying to make Spike more comfortable as his body attempted to repair itself; she was grateful when a switchblade slipped from his boot and fell to the ground. At least she would have something to use besides her fingers to pry loose the numerous slugs from his back. She was quite sure the Spike didn’t want his skin to heal over the pieces of lead imbedded in his skin.  
  
His back was covered in blood, so Buffy used the shredded t-shirt as a towel. She wondered vaguely how much blood a vampire could lose and not have the results turn deadly. It was something she had never encountered before. Usually, it was see vampire, dust vampire – end of story. She found herself silently praying that it wouldn’t matter how much he managed to lose.  
  
He didn’t deserve to die like this. They were warriors, the two of them. She’d always know that if it were her turn to die, Spike would probably be the one to do it. He’d seemed the only one capable, thus far. And secretly, she bet that Spike felt the same. It was if the two were somehow connected… waiting for that final dance.  
  
Leaning over his bare back, she began the arduous task of removing the bullets. She winced as each slug was freed, trying to balance speed with a desire not to inflict any more damage.  His back quickly became a bloody mess, each hole leaking blood he could ill-afford to lose.  She bit her lip, eyeing with some trepidation the bullets she still had left to remove.

_Hurry_ , she commanded herself. 

When the last bullet finally sprang free, Buffy dropped the knife and reached for the discarded t-shirt, trying to cover the holes on his back as best she could. She was worried; not once had Spike flinched since she’d begun her back alley first aid routine.  
  
 _‘While he’s out, I may as well reset his dislocated arm,’_ she reasoned and climbed off the sarcophagus for better leverage.  
  
Gripping his arm in one hand and his shoulder in the other, Buffy gave it a quick jerk, pleased when she heard the large pop reverberate throughout the silent crypt. Carefully, she lowered his arm, allowing it to rest against his side. Again, Spike had not uttered a single sound. 

She was really starting to get worried. He needed blood, badly.  
  
Ignoring the voice in her head that told her she was a fool for even considering it, Buffy retrieved the discarded knife and climbed back on the sarcophagus. She stretched out beside him, telling herself that she was just returning the favor. A life for a life – simple as that. She would worry about killing him the next time their paths happened to cross.  
  
Tilting him up so that he lay on his side, she slit her wrist and rubbed the open wound back and forth across his lips.  
  
At first he just lay there, oblivious to the life-giving sustenance being offered him. Then ever so slowly, it seemed his demon became aware of the blood – her Slayer blood – tempting his senses. His mouth opened and he unconsciously swallowed the sweet ambrosia trickling into his mouth. Still too weak to shift his features and plunge his fangs into her wrist.  
  
Buffy dropped the knife as his lips curved around the opening she had made, his tongue laved sensuously at her wrist as he sucked eagerly at the cut, the action producing an insistent throbbing deep in her core. Her eyes widened in shock at the sensation.  
  
 _This_ was why she had stayed away from him, her pseudo-disgust apparent every time their paths had crossed. She knew that she’d enjoy his touch too much. Would become helpless if he were to ever get his fangs into her flesh.  
  
Whereas Angel had been brutal, crushing her against his overly-large body in his zeal to drain her as he tried to restore his health, Spike was gentle. Even unconscious, he made the process of drinking from her an erotic experience. Each pull of her blood into his mouth stroked her that much higher, her eyes fluttered shut and she became caught up in the spell he was weaving by his simple touch.  
  
Ignoring the protesting voice in her head that told her she was lying, completely vulnerable, next to Spike – evil, soulless, deadly Spike – she wiggled closer to his body. Locked in the seductive pull he was eliciting on her senses, she stretched out alongside him, her head tipped back in a silent moan as the pulls on her wrist became stronger, more insistent, her life-sustaining blood filling his depleted stores.  
  
Spike slowly became conscious of the warm, rich blood sliding down his throat. But the blood was different. Better. Powerful. Slayer blood. _Slayer blood??_ His eyes popped open and he stared at the girl who was lying next to him, her slashed wrist held against his open mouth.  
  
She was a sight to behold with her head thrown back in obvious enjoyment, her lips parted as if trying to voice her pleasure, but had found herself unable. She was spectacular. A vision of need and want just waiting for more. And he was just the vamp to give it to her.  
  
He stopped sucking on her wrist for a moment to run his tongue back and forth along the jagged cut she had made to her wrist. He was rewarded when her head fell back even more, exposing her long, slender neck to his gaze. He watched, enraptured, her blood pumping hurriedly through her veins; the echoing sound reverberated in his ears. His eyes widened in shock, then narrowed in desire when he felt her body shift even closer to him.  
  
The pulse beating away in her neck was calling like a siren’s song, and Spike gently laved her self-inflicted wound closed so he could move on to a much better bounty. Not that he planned to kill her, far from it. Not now anyway. Which was a far cry from what he had wanted to do when he had first rolled back into town.  
  
His Dru had been right. The Slayer _was_ all around him. Who was he to contradict his Sire’s visions?  
  
His hand came up to close over the wrist that she held to his mouth. She didn’t seem to notice, entirely caught up in the moment. What little amount of her blood he now had coursing through his veins had gone a long way towards healing the gunshot wounds. So much so, that when he pulled her close before rolling to his back – the Slayer coming to lie on top of him – he didn’t even flinch at the pain... _much_.  
  
It did get her attention, however, and Spike began to nuzzle her neck – his blunt teeth nipping lightly at her exposed flesh causing goose bumps to break out along her arms. The body that had started to go rigid in his arms, melted once more as she lay nestled on top of him.  
  
“Spike,” she whispered huskily, “What are you doing to me?”  
  
Spike tried to respond. Really, he did. But her body had started rubbing up and down along the erection straining against the confines of his jeans, and he could only groan and manage to get a hoarse “Slayer” to slip past his parted lips.  
  
His demon was eager for more of her blood, teased by the accelerated pounding caused from her excitement… and her desire. He practically drooled at the scent of her arousal. Each downward thrust as she rocked against him, released another wave of the delicious perfume that was distinctly Slayer, tempting his palate beyond belief.  
  
He couldn’t prevent his human mask from fading, was surprised he’d managed to hold on to his control this long. Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined her, the Slayer, to be yielding to him like this. And not just yielding. Matching, demanding even, with her body for him to bite her. It was too much for his demon to take.  
  
Back and forth his fangs trailed over the virgin side of her neck, glorying in the slight keening sounds erupting from her parted lips. Her soft cries urged him on as her body continued to writhe against his in a mass of unfulfilled desire.  
  
“Please, Spike,” she begged, her pride tossed to the wind, her body helplessly responding to his touch.  
  
Never one to refuse a lady, he allowed his fangs to finally pierce her flesh, pulling her body even tighter against his as her blood filled his mouth.  
  
“Oh God… yes…” she hissed.  
  
Even the slight sting of his fangs when they sunk into her throat wasn’t enough to pull her from her pleasure-induced haze. In fact, the slight pain only seemed to enhance it. The sharp pulls against her neck triggered an answering ache deep inside and she ground herself against his pelvis to help relieve the insistent throbbing.  
  
Spike didn’t know what was better, the taste of her blood filling his mouth or the heat radiating from her pussy as it ground against his cock.  
  
Needing to feel her more intimately against him, he rolled them until he was nestled between her legs. Sensing how close she was to orgasm, Spike circled his hips, grinding himself hard against her. Her arms lifted to wrap around his neck, pulling him even closer; her legs locked around his hips, leaving no space between their two bodies.  
  
His mouth firmly locked on her neck, Spike continued to sip her blood as he persisted with his frenzied grinding, the dual sensations driving her closer to release.  
  
Suddenly it was too much. Like a burst of blinding light, her orgasm ripped through her small frame causing tremors to wrack her body.  
  
“Oh… Spike!”  
  
Spike’s eyes widened when he sensed her release, then closed at the sudden rush of blood flooding his mouth. Bit back a moan as he thrust once, and then twice, and joined her.  
  
“God… Slayer!” he shouted, having released his grip on her throat. Collapsed on top of her moments later, thoroughly spent.  
  
Not wanting to burden her with his weight, Spike rolled to his back bringing the dazed Slayer with him to sprawl on his bare chest. He lifted his head from the sarcophagus, licking at the trail of blood seeping from the twin marks at her throat before closing the wounds.  
  
“Mmmm… Slayer… mine,” he whispered as he continued to nuzzle her neck.  
  
Too addled to realize what she was doing, Buffy murmured a distracted “Mmmmhmmmm” against his chest right before sleep overtook her.  
  
Spike didn’t realize the significance of her agreement, just held her tight as he drifted off, allowing her Slayer’s blood to finish the healing process to his body.


	2. Chapter 2

Even in her dazed state, Buffy knew she wasn’t in her bed. For one thing, she was slightly chilled – as if the window had been left open all night and her covers were nowhere to be seen. For another, her bed didn’t vibrate. And what she currently lay sprawled upon was purring like a well-sated cat – a _large_ , well-sated cat.  
  
She struggled to open her eyes in order to take in her surroundings, mentally kicking her brain into gear to rehash the events of the night. While her mind tried to grope with the fact that she felt as weak as a day-old kitten, the events of last night slowly came back to her.  
  
Images of her taunting the lone vampire hunting on campus gave way to being pinned down by three others – moments from death – until someone had pulled them off her in a nose-diving tackle. Spike. That someone had been Spike. Then other images floated before her… her pulling numerous slugs from the Swiss cheese that comprised his back, her getting him to feed, him waking up and resettling himself at her neck, the pleasure.  
  
Her eyes shot open, suddenly realizing where she was and who lay beneath her. She scrambled off Spike, kneeling between his parted legs, gazing down at the vampire slumbering peacefully beneath her. And vibrating. Good lord, he was purring. She looked at him quizzically before resettling her ear to his chest. Yep! Spike, master vampire, was _purring_ in his sleep. 

Not wanting to wake him and answer any unnecessary questions as to her motives for providing him with a healthy dose of Slayer on tap, she carefully eased off the sarcophagus and let herself out of the crypt. The sun was just starting to light the sky, and Buffy mumbled an “oh shit” before she took off running for the dorm.  
  
She was going to be late for class.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
With classes for the day finally behind her, Buffy rushed over to Giles’ place to check in with him. She stepped inside and her gaze was drawn to the picture he was holding up to Xander.  
  
“Hello, people. Hey. Hmmmm… It’s my late night storm trooper pal. Although, this one had a bunch of buddies with him.”  
  
“A bunch?!?”  
  
“Buffy, what happened?”  
  
Xander and Giles questioned her at the same time, and Buffy could have smacked herself for speaking without thinking. Unconsciously, her hand came up to brush idly at the bite mark strategically covered by a stylish handkerchief.  
  
“Uh, it was nothing. I was fighting a few vamps when trooper boy here and his friends showed up to interrupt my party. Musta thought we were doing some kinky vamp foreplay, because next thing I know, they’ve got these huge guns pointed at us.”  
  
“Oh dear Lord. Are you alright?” Giles asked, concern evident in his tone. “They didn’t hurt you or anything?”  
  
“Nah… just a bunch of humans. Not even vamp strength. I broke through the weakest one and ran off until I lost them. No big.”  
  
“If you say so. But these commandos, whoever they are, are really starting to concern me and you shouldn’t be taking them so lightly. Maybe Xander and I should come with you on patrol tonight.”  
  
“Nope.” She held up a hand before they could protest. “I’m going to a party tonight. Hopefully, a ‘no fighting, no biting’ kind of deal.”  
  
“Look, Buffy, somebody’s got to find out who these people are,” her watcher argued.  
  
“Giles, I live in a dorm now. The girls in my hall want to party, Willow needs some cheering up. I’m going to take her,” she rationalized.  
  
“How’s Willow doing?” Xander asked.  
  
“With the black hole of despair she’s been living in since Oz left? She’s dealing. I’m helping. It’s hard. Ergo, party. You two can take patrol. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go find something slutty to wear tonight.”  
  
The two men looked at her as she turned and sauntered off. Both wondering the same thing.

_Had she said slutty?_  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Buffy glanced down at her appearance one more time before stepping inside the fraternity house. She’d opted for the handkerchief and paired it with a skimpy tank top and frilly skirt. Willow had looked askance at her regarding her ensemble, but she’d brushed the other girl’s opinions aside and told her she was going for a “glam” look. She couldn’t rightly say that she’d been bitten by none other than Spike – and enjoyed it, no less. She’d have found herself in front of Giles and the others before Willow could say, “Scooby meeting.”  
  
“Looks cool,” Buffy said of the party.  
  
“Uh huh.” Willow appeared less than enthused.  
  
“Look, we could go.”  
  
“No… no. We’re here for fun,” Willow replied with forced exhuberance. “Oh look. Some of the others are here already.”  
  
“I’m gonna grab a soda. I’ll find you guys.” Willow had just spotted Riley across the room and needed to impart information.  
  
“Ok.” Buffy stepped into the foyer and made her way towards the group of girls that resided in her dorm.

~*~*~*~*~

“Ok, she’s wearing the halter top with sensible shoes. That means mostly dancing, light contact. But don’t push your luck. Heavy conversation’s out of the question,” Willow told Riley, her eyes scanning the crowd as she leaned against the rail – trying to be covert girl.  
  
“So what do I do?”  
  
“Ask her to dance.” Willow rolled her eyes. _Honestly!_  
  
“Right! Dance. Wait. No,” Riley hedged.  
  
“What’s the matter?” she asked, concerned enough to actually look at him.  
  
“I can’t dance,” he told her sheepishly.  
  
“Then talk. Keep eye contact. Funny is good, but don’t be glib. And remember, if you hurt her, I will beat you to death with a shovel. A vague disclaimer is nobody’s friend. Have fun.”  
  
She patted his arm then wandered off.  


~*~*~*~*~

Buffy was bored. She’d originally come to the party in an attempt to cheer Willow. But as she glanced around mid-dance, she noticed her friend sitting next to the TA, Riley. The music ended, and she nearly groaned when she heard the Dingo’s song start to play over the speakers. She watched helplessly while her friend’s face paled. Willow said something to Riley, then stood and hurried away.

She was about to join her when the tingling started. Beginning in her neck, it radiated outwards until it felt like her limbs were all but vibrating. She left the guy she’d been dancing with and walked away without a backward glance. Stepping out on the front porch, she watched Willow leave with a couple of girls from her dorm. Satisfied as to her safety, she closed her eyes and embraced the sensations coursing through her body.

She was unsure exactly what was happening to her, just knew that she had to find whatever it was that seemed to be calling her. Instinctively, her hand sought the mark on her neck and nearly jolted when she felt an answering throb between her legs. Biting her bottom lip to stifle a moan, she turned right and headed towards the trees.

~*~*~*~*~

Making her way through the forest path, she searched blindly – nearly overcome with need – for the person responsible for driving her to the brink of sexual longing. Panting heavily, she leaned against a tree and took deep breaths to calm the lust raging through her body. The buzzing in her neck was stronger, and in a fit of pique, she ripped the handkerchief from where it covered the healing wound and threw it to the ground, praying the cool night air would soothe the twin puncture marks marring her skin.

Almost instantly, the buzzing subsided. It was still there, the dull throb left no doubt that she should move on. But the urgent tingling had drifted away now that the holes on her neck were visible for any and all to see.

And in a moment of clarity, she knew.

It was Spike.

He was doing this… _whatever_ it was, to her.

Pushing away from the tree trunk with more purpose, she steeled her gaze, allowing her slayer’s senses to seek him out. Between the call of the bite and her own special vamp-tracking abilities, she quickly located his direction and started running towards him. She ignored the branches that tugged at her hair, pulling it from the sophisticated “up-do” style she had twisted it into. Paid no mind to the scratches that drew thin lines of blood on her exposed arms and legs. She had one goal. To find Spike, and stop whatever it was he appeared to be doing to her.

Buffy reached the clearing and ground to a halt, her chest heaving after her headlong run in the woods. She watched as Spike took a last drag on the cigarette held suspended between his lips before he pulled it away with his thumb and forefinger and flicked the butt off into the distance. Her eyes followed its track as it arced in the sky before falling useless to the ground several feet away from him.

Seeing the lit butt fall harmless amongst the dirt, she returned her narrowed gaze to his face.

“Spike,” she growled, fists clenched at her sides, glaring daggers at him. Anger at what he’d done to her, how he’d practically forced her to come to him, radiated from her taut frame. She watched him nonchalantly push away from his reclined position against a tree and move towards her. Her eyes widened comically and she remained rooted to the spot, noticed him pause and inhale deeply – his human mask receding as the demon features came to the fore – licking his fangs in anticipation.

Then, just as quickly, his human mask was back in place and he was once again striding towards her… stalking her. The purring cat was gone and in its place was the hunter vampires were reputed as being.

“Mmmm… Slayer. Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me? Standing there, breathing heavily. Golden skin nicked with scratches, the delicious fragrance of your blood permeating the air.”

Buffy watched warily while he circled around her, assessing her from every angle. She didn’t move, didn’t want to provoke him. She’d stupidly forgotten to tuck a stake, or two, into discreet locations on her person when she’d left the dorm earlier. In her defense, she wasn’t planning on patrolling and figured the respite from the damn thing digging into her skin would be a welcome relief. Right about now, she’d take a little digging.

If she were drained dry, it would be her own damn fault.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt him brush her hair aside and lick the marks he’d given her. Was it only last night?

Her knees nearly buckled as an overwhelming feeling of lust slammed through her. Spike’s arm wrapped about her waist and hauled her snug against his body. She bit back a moan when her ass came into contact with the hard length tucked in his jeans. He nuzzled her neck and this time she did moan… she couldn’t help it. It was like the marks on her neck were directly connected to her pussy.

She wondered if he touched her between her legs would she feel it on her neck, then blushed bright red at the wickedness of that thought.

Spike, for his part, couldn’t believe his good fortune. He’d woken around dusk, oddly rested and sated, and it took him a moment to realize why he felt so good. The Slayer… she’d let him drink from her. He’d nearly fallen from his perch atop the sarcophagus as the full force of the claim slammed through his gut. His demon wanted to immediately search her out, find her. But he had to be wary, keep a low profile. He didn’t want a repeat performance of last night with the weirdly dressed humans. And he damn sure didn’t want the bolt of electricity or the numerous bullets they could produce.

So he’d laid low. He wasn’t remotely hungry – the Slayer’s blood seeing to both his recovery and his appetite. Instead, he’d hung about the crypt and waited until he was sure that she’d be patrolling.

He’d nearly had a fit when he’d seen her walking into the house full of boys and several girls. And when he’d finally dared get closer, his demon went ballistic upon seeing her grinding against some gangly boy. If it weren’t for the invite situation, he would have ripped the git’s heart out for daring to touch his girl.

He was so pissed, he’d stormed off into the woods and resorted to chain smoking to calm down, all the while opening their connection and tugging her towards him.

Now that she was here, his arms wrapped around her and holding her tight against his body, he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Part of him wanted to punish her for daring to let another touch her. But, another side – that soft, poetic nancy side – told him that she didn’t realize yet what she’d allowed.

She’d said yes to him, and he was damn sure gonna hold her to it.

He’d come back to Sunnydale to prove to Drusilla that he’d get the Slayer out of his system – kill her quick and get his third under his belt. That it was only his Dark Princess that called to him. Instead, he’d ended up claiming the chit. He sneered at the irony. Spike, William the Fucking Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, had gone off and claimed one. His Sire’s words came back to mock him.

_I can still see her floating all around you, laughing. Why? Why won’t you push her away?_

Now he knew. From the first moment he’d seen her in the Bronze, he knew. Had just denied it. She was his. Didn’t matter that Peaches got to her first – from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, he knew she’d one day be his.

Now it was time to show her.

He spun her around and shoved her up against a tree. Her lips opened around a shocked gasp and he wasted no time in thrusting his tongue into the warm cavern of her mouth. He felt her push against him for a moment before her arms wended their way up his chest, circling around his neck to bring him closer. She kissed him back then. Heads slanted from side to side while their tongues dueled for mastery.

Spike dropped one hand from her waist and lifted the hem of her skirt until his fingers closed on the scrap of lace covering her mound. A quick tug and the flimsy garment fell away, leaving her moist curls open to questing digits. He flicked one finger back and forth along her slit and groaned into her mouth as her wet response coated the single digit. His thumb drew lazy circles over her distended nub, and he slipped first one, then two, fingers into her wet pussy.

Buffy tore her mouth away from Spike’s, attempting to suck some much needed air into her lungs. Her head fell back against the tree while his fingers worked their magic between her thighs. What he was doing was much better than last night… the feel of his fingers delving within her core were carrying her towards the brink of orgasm. She was just about to sail over the cliff when he stopped.

His hands withrew and she nearly cried out her frustration. She didn’t hear the belt buckle or zipper give way as she was too focused on the loss of contact from her pussy. Her mouth formed a pout and she was just about to voice her objections when she felt one of her legs lifted and held around his waist. Then something nudged against her opening.

When he sheathed his cock to the hilt, she bit her bottom lip so hard to keep from crying out her pleasure that she drew blood. She opened lust-filled eyes to see his gaze locked on the trail of blood. Releasing her lip, she smiled a come-hither smile – knowing now what the scent of her slayer’s blood did to him. Her tongue darted out to capture the droplet, dangling it in a teasing manner before him.

Her eyes nearly crossed when he withdrew almost all the way out of her, before ramming home again. His head dipped again to plunge his tongue into her mouth, sucking the small drops of blood that coated it.

She keened her pleasure, tearing her mouth from his, chanting his name in a litany of sorts as he fucked her right there against the tree. The marks on her neck were on fire and she wished he’d bite her again to ease the ache they caused.

Her prayers were suddenly answered when Spike grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged her head to the side. As soon as his fangs pierced her flesh and he took his first pull, she climaxed. 

Spike growled low in his throat as he felt the Slayer shudder against him, and he took one more pull of her blood before he joined her in oblivion. Thoroughly spent, he leaned against her, his cock still buried in her sweet quim, thankful that the tree was there for additional support.  
  
Minutes later he sensed the approach of someone, or rather _someones_ , and Spike reluctantly pulled away and licked hastily at the fresh marks he’d made. He glanced down at the Slayer’s dazed expression and realized he’d get no help from her in her current state; he pulled free and quickly tucked himself back in his pants. Settling her skirt around her legs, Spike scooped the girl into his arms and made off into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

Spike ended up taking the Slayer to her house on Revello Drive. The dorm she stayed at on campus was too close to the weirdly dressed humans for his peace of mind, and he’d doubtless spend too much time trying to figure out where her dorm was. No, the house was definitely easier. The biggest thing for him would be getting around the invite.  
  
As he walked up to the steps of the Slayer’s home, he set her on her feet to try the door. There wasn’t a car in the driveway, so he figured her mum wasn’t home. He tried the knob and cursed under his breath when it didn’t turn.  
  
“Slayer? Hey…snap out of it, love. You got a key?”  
  
“Flowerpot,” she murmured, leaning against the wall.  
  
Spike looked at her questioningly, scarred brow arched. Rolling his eyes at her bemused expression, he turned and looked around the porch. He kicked at various potted plants until he upturned the one that hid her house key. Bending down, he snagged their means of entry and unlocked the front door. The door swung inward the second he turned the knob and pushed, and Spike couldn’t help the smile that lit up his face when his hand easily crossed the nonexistent invisible barrier.  
  
The Slayer hadn’t revoked his invitation.  
  
“Come on, pet. Let’s get you upstairs to bed,” he told her, easily lifting her into his arms. He practically purred his delight when she wrapped her arms so trustingly around his neck and snuggled into his chest. Oh yeah, he was going to enjoy his Slayer.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
He watched as she bounced on the mattress a few times before settling when he dumped her on the bed. The short freefall must have triggered her adrenaline because the dazed expression left her face and she seemed shocked that he was in her bedroom with her.  
  
“Wha-what are you doing here, Spike?”  
  
“Don’t you remember, love?” he asked, head cocked to the side, smirk clearly evident on his face. He pushed away from the wall, allowing his battered duster to slide effortlessly from his shoulders, depositing it on the chair in her room.  
  
Buffy stared at Spike, her eyes wide and unblinking while he removed his coat and set it aside.  
  
“What are you doing? Are you _crazy_? Put your coat back on and get out of here! You can’t be in my room!” she screeched, unable to keep the rising hysteria out of her voice.  
  
Spike ignored her, calmly sitting on her bed and removing his boots, the dual thuds as they hit the floor sounding ominous in her tiny bedroom.  
  
“No. No. No. _No_! You can’t… I mean… Spike… my mother could come home!”  
  
“Then I guess you’re just going to have to be quiet then, aren’t you, pet?” he told her, rising to his feet and shrugging out of his t-shirt.  
  
Buffy’s jaw dropped having gotten a good look at his chest. _‘God, he’s gorgeous!’_ She licked her lips in appreciation, her heart rate kicked up a notch. When they’d hidden in the crypt, she hadn’t been able to see him too clearly, and it was mainly his back that had been exposed to her gaze while she’d worked to pry the bullets out of him. Now, with the muted light from the nearly full moon bathing his skin, she couldn’t help but appreciate the toned muscles in his arms, his abs, the vee in his lower abdomen as it led down to his…  
  
She closed her eyes tight as Spike shucked his jeans. Just listened to the stiff material slide down his lean hips, and what she imagined were his equally toned thighs and calves before he stepped out of them. When she felt the bed dip under his weight, her breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes opened suddenly to seek him out, too scared to just wait for whatever was going to happen.  
  
The look on his face made her swallow reflexively. She watched him inhale deeply, and flushed in embarrassment knowing that he was smelling her. 

Buffy didn’t know what to think, or to feel. She was out of her depth with Spike. Their brief encounter earlier in the woods was probably just a small taste of the kinds of pleasure he could bestow upon her body.  
  
Her eyes remained locked on him, staring in helplessly fascination while he removed her shoes and dropped them off the side of the bed. Then he crawled up another few inches and set about undoing her skirt. Even though her face turned a brighter shade of red, she didn’t stop him. The thought that she was naked beneath the thin material flitted through her mind, her panties having been ripped from her while they’d been in the woods. For all she knew, they were still out there.  
  
She felt a cold rush of air across her legs and stared down at her nude limbs in amazement. How he’d managed to divest her of her skirt, she wasn’t quite sure. Her hands moved to cover herself, feeling much too exposed to his penetrating gaze. His rumbled growl stopped her actions momentarily, but it was his gruff, “No.” that stilled her movements.  
  
Her hands fell away to grip the sheets as he settled himself between her legs. What was he going to– 

The first touch of his tongue on her outer folds had her eyes going wide. Her hips would have come clean off the bed in shocked pleasure if he hadn’t been holding her down.  
  
“Spike!” she hissed. He was lapping at her pussy like a cat with a bowl of cream. Neither of her two lovers had done that before, hadn’t even hinted that it was something that they’d entertain. Yet, Spike was slowly driving her mad with only his tongue, licking her slit as if it was the best thing since sliced bread.  
  
“Bloody hell, Slayer…”  
  
Buffy didn’t hear him, too far gone to do nothing more than react to the sensations he was creating. Her legs looped over his shoulders; her hands left the sheets to grip his hair – her one thought to hold him in place and never let him move. Her hips rose from the bed, desperate to increase the friction against her mound. When his mouth closed over her clitoris and bit down, her body exploded into a thousand pieces. Her orgasm so intense that she nearly blacked out. Her arms and legs tightened reflexively, and if Spike had been a mere man, he would have broken beneath the strain.  
  
Instead, he just growled fiercely while she rode out her climax, finally collapsing back against the mattress, arms and legs too weak to move. Her heavy breathing the only sound breaking the quiet of the room.  
  
Spike thought he’d die if he couldn’t bury himself in the Slayer’s pussy. The sheer intensity of her orgasm took him by surprise. And he didn’t even have to tease her with his fingers to bring her off. Just his tongue alone had managed to send her hurtling over the edge. She was so responsive… and she was his.  
  
 _His._  
  
His desire to claim her once more had him surging up her utterly replete body and burying his cock deep within her heated channel. He felt her arms and legs wrap around his body, locking him in place as he set up a frenzied rhythm, thrusting in and out of her in a hurried pace that would quickly send her tumbling towards another orgasm, already anticipating what her slayer muscles would do to his cock.  
  
One hand came up to cup her breast beneath her shirt, their hips continually smacking together. He needed to taste her. Shoving her shirt and bra out of his way, his lips latched on to one puckered nipple and sucked it into his mouth. His fangs elongated and pierced her flesh, causing her to cry out in surprise. He released her flesh and lapped at the blood that pooled from the tiny holes. Her nails scored his back, and forced a growl out of his mouth.  
  
God, he loved it when she was rough like that!  
  
He pulled all the way out off her, flipping her over and pulling her to her hands and knees, slamming back into her before she had a chance to let out a sound of protest. Once more he set up a punishing pace, driving his cock into her slick passage just as hard and deep as she could take it. And, she took it all… and screamed for more. Pushing back against him, grinding against him, while his hips continued their frenzied thrusting. He could feel his balls tighten with his impending release, and he lifted her upper body back against his chest, allowing him to run his fangs along the back of her neck. His hands weren’t idle, one continuing to fondle one of her breasts, while the other delved into the curls at the apex of her thighs to finger her clit.  
  
When her inner muscles tightened around his cock, he gripped her hips and slammed her down on his length. His fangs struck blindly, latching onto the back of her neck as he found his own release. His hips stilled and one arm came up to wrap around her waist, the other crossed her upper torso to grip her shoulder. He held her to him, releasing the back of her neck and growling a possessive “mine” before burying his fangs back into his claiming mark.   
  
Buffy offered no protest, her body on sensory overload. She collapsed back against him, her skin tingling where his tongue laved at the fresh marks on her neck.  
  
Somehow they collapsed upon the bed, still intimately joined, Spike’s arms wrapped around her allowing her head to rest upon his arm. Lulled by the vibrations coming from his chest, Buffy drifted off to sleep.  
  
Wide awake after having slept the whole day, and juiced on her blood, Spike watched the rise and fall of the Slayer’s chest as she slept peacefully in his arms. After a bit, he managed to disentangle himself from her grasp and slip silently from the bed. He redressed and wrote her a quick note, his flowing script at such odds with his evil demeanor. When he was finished, he tucked the folded piece of paper where she would see it upon waking, and pulled the covers up over her body.  
  
He left the room without making a sound, pulling her bedroom door shut behind him. Once downstairs, he wandered around the room for a minute before snagging a picture of the Slayer. With so many there, they’d hardly miss one.  
  
Spike stepped out the front door and stretched his senses, determined not to be caught unaware by the dark-clad figures that had taken to roaming the streets of Sunnydale. He needed to find a place…someplace the Slayer wouldn’t mind seeking him out. Now that he’d claimed her, he had no plans on leaving.  
  
Not that he planned on joining her Scooby gang. Far from it. He was evil. The Big Bad. But if the Slayer seemed to be in a pinch while out patrolling… Well, as his property, it was his responsibility to look out for her welfare.


	4. Chapter 4

It took a moment for Buffy to realize where she was, but when she did, she sat up with a start and looked around. Sunlight was streaming in through her open curtains, and for a moment, a panicked thought trickled through her brain that Spike had been turned to dust.  
  
She was about to jump out of bed and search the floor when it came to her – she didn’t feel him. Her slayer senses lay dormant.  
  
He’d left.  
  
That thought hurt almost as much as the first one, maybe more so. What _was_ it about her that she couldn’t wake up next to a guy?  
  
Buffy rolled over, and that’s when she saw it. A folded piece of paper that hadn’t been there the night before. She reached for it gingerly, afraid that it would disappear when she went to grab it. A smile lit her face as her hand closed around the note, widening still as she rushed through the contents, then reading it again at a slower pace. When she was finished, she stood and hid the letter in amongst some of her things and went to take a shower.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Buffy was bored. She’d just finished dusting another fledge while out patrolling the campus, waiting for Spike to show. For a minute, she thought she’d sensed him, hiding amongst the bushes. But it hadn’t been him. He wasn’t a lurker, for one thing.  
  
 _That_ title fell to Angel.  
  
Only, Angel was in Los Angeles. Having kicked her to the curb for her own good.  
  
 _‘No. I’m not bitter.’_  
  
She glanced around one more time to make sure. Whatever it was didn’t want to be found. Shrugging her shoulders, she moved off. She had a vampire to hunt down.

~*~*~*~*~

Angel stepped into the clearing where he’d been hiding behind a tree. His eyes watched somberly as Buffy walked away. He’d been right in coming to Sunnydale, needing to make sure that she was safe.

Now having gotten close to her and catching a whiff of her scent, his demon howled at him within the confines of his soul. Called him ten kinds of fools for letting her slip away.

She’d been claimed.

By none other than his pesky grandchilde.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy wasn’t bored anymore. She was pissed. But better pissed than the hurt that threatened to consume her.

He’d not shown last night. After that creepy feeling of being watched, she’d spent another two hours on patrol before she’d finally given up for the night and gone back to her dorm room, falling into a fitful sleep sometime before dawn, only to be woken a few hours later by Willow. The two had made plans to witness the groundbreaking ceremony on campus; Anya had invited herself along because Xander was supposed to be working on the site after the presentation.

So now here she was, standing beneath a tree, being forced to listen to the ex-vengeance demon’s thoughts about having sex with Xander. And could she just say ewww? 

_‘Focus, Buffy!’_ she mentally commanded herself.

“Xander!” Anya gasped. Her boyfriend had just fallen through the ground.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy stared out the window of her dorm room, barely listening to what Willow was saying. Her mind was on Spike, who’d deserted her the other night and had yet to show himself. She sighed deeply and tried to rein in her wandering thoughts.

“Huh?” she asked distractedly.

“Is there something out there?”

“Hmmm? Oh! No. I’m sorry… So, a lost mission?”

Willow continued speaking and Buffy managed to mumble appropriate responses but her mind wasn’t really on the conversation. Spike had said he’d needed to find a place and that he’d be back, but as one day slipped into two – soon to be three – insecure!Buffy was rearing her ugly head. Making her once more question her staying power when it came to men.

Willow stood and shut the door, and Buffy knew the look on her face. It said “I can tell something is on your mind, but how do I ask what it is?”

“Man, it’s crazy out there.”

“Mmm-hmmm…” Buffy agreed. “Post midterm frenzy. Everyone’s going home for the holiday.”

“Are you all right?” Willow asked, concerned.

“Hmm?? Oh yeah… I’m just… I want to have my _own_ Thanksgiving. Ya know, a holiday like everyone else.” Anything to take her mind off a certain blond vampire that was turning into a no-show.

“But I thought… you know… the boycott and everything.”

“I know, Wills, it’s just that… with the turkey and the yams… Can’t we please?” Buffy looked at the pouty expression on her friend’s face. “Hey! No pouting. It’s just turkey and stuff. Besides… isn’t that the whole point of Thanksgiving? Everybody has a place to go?”

“I suppose so… Hey! Could we not invite Anya?”

“Don’t know, Wills. She and Xander were looking kind of tight.”

“Yeah… but there’s just… she bugs me. You’re sure we have to invite her?”

“Willow!”

The two girls broke into helpless laughter.

~*~*~*~*~

Angel stepped out from the hallway once Buffy left Giles’ apartment. That she’s not sensed him told Angel that she was consumed with thoughts of Spike. Had perhaps believed that he was near, which is why she beat a hasty retreat. He didn’t like it.

“So, what do you think?” Giles asked, breaking into his train of thought.

He didn’t tell the watcher about the claim Spike had put on Buffy. He really didn’t need to have the Council step in and take her in hand. Better for him to see to the problem personally. Once Spike was gone, the claim would be null and void, and Buffy could get back to being her normal self. Rather than the plaything of a sadistic vampire.

“She sounds good. Kind of intense about this Thanksgiving thing,” Angel replied.

“I think perhaps she’s a little lonely, but... I meant about the murder.”

“Oh…yeah. Sorry. Whatever killed the woman was probably the danger Doyle sensed.”

“Yes, well, this danger... Your friend has some ominous vision about Buffy.It’s all terribly vague. I mean, there are other things happening on this campus,” Giles remarked.

“Well, maybe I’m wrong, but I gotta try something. I can’t just keep watching. Look, I’m gonna go… um... keep an eye on Buffy.”

“She doesn’t need you to look after her. Perhaps you should return to Los Angeles. Now that we’re aware of the problem, we’ll be extra vigilant.”

“I walked away once and maybe I shouldn’t have. I’ll going to stick this out and just pray she doesn’t see me.”

Angel strode swiftly towards the door, effectively ending his conversation with Giles. A moment later, he was following Buffy’s trail as she made her way towards town.

~*~*~*~*~

“It’s the last thing. I promise,” Buffy told Willow. “Besides, I have an appointment with that priest that Giles called about. He thinks he might have some information.”

The pair neared the grocer and watched as Riley jogged over towards them.

“Buffy!” He stopped before the girls, giving the blonde an endearing – at least he thought so – smile. “Hey, Buffy.”

“Riley. Where did you come from?”

“Oh, just across the street… and a few blocks down. Hey, Willow.”

Willow, seeing this as a golden opportunity to further the relationship between her friend and the TA, pointed towards the coffee shop and wandered off.

Left with no choice, Buffy engaged Riley in a brief conversation, craning her neck to look up at him. _‘I don’t have to crane my neck to look at Spike,’_ she thought to herself while Riley droned on… and on. What was it about him that left her as excited as a trip to the dentist would have made her? Maybe it was the good-boy charm that seemed more put on than real.

Or the fact that he wasn’t Spike.

Speaking of…

“Look, ummm… Riley? I’ve got to run. I’ve got an appointment in…” Buffy glanced down at her watch. “Oh gosh… five minutes.I’ve gotta go! Can you tell Willow I’ll meet her back at the house? ‘Kay? Thanks! Bye.”

She hurried off, paying no mind to the bewildered look of the man she’d left behind.

~*~*~*~*~

“Father Gabriel? Father Gabriel,” Buffy called out as she walked through the church. Something was wrong, Buffy could feel it; she hurried to the back of the church and out the double doors. As she turned to the right, she saw the priest swinging from a noose, and what looked like an Indian about to slit his throat. “God!”

She rushed the assailant, punching him in the stomach and throwing him away from the hanging priest.

“You can’t stop me,” he told her from his crouched position on the ground, knife held at the ready.

“You’re very wrong about that,” Buffy replied.

Her comment seemed to anger him and he charged, feinting at the last moment and slicing her arm from elbow to shoulder. As Buffy twisted away to keep the knife from sinking into her neck, her pain-filled mind picked up the enraged growl just moments before a black blur engaged her attacker.

Buffy pushed aside the throbbing pain radiating from her arm to rush back to the priest’s side, sounds of the fight floated back towards her. She couldn’t prevent the tears that formed in her eyes as she yanked the end of the rope where it was secured to a pole, gently lowering the dead man to the ground.

Things seemed to catch up to her then. The stress of dealing with Thanksgiving dinner. Spike’s no show the last few nights. Feelings of being stalked. Willow’s non-subtle matchmaking attempts. Not to mention the pain in her arm that continued to bleed.

She leaned back against the wall, sinking wearily to the ground near the fallen priest, her last bit of energy leaving her in a rush. She wanted to be cuddled and told that everything would be okay. Her last thought before she passed out was that Spike better hurry up before she bled all over the place. 

~*~*~*~*~

Spike had spent the better part of two hours avoiding Angel and subsequently tracking the Slayer. He’d put the finishing touches on his – _their_ – place just before dusk and was hunting her down to give her a look see. He remembered growling at the overgrown Neanderthal that had rushed up to his girl with his corn-fed smile as she and the redheaded chit walked along outside some shops.  
  
Like he had any chance in hell of taking the Slayer from him.  
  
He was all set to tell him to shove off and to hell with Peaches who was lurking in the coffee shop, but then he’d gotten a look at her face. Had seen the brief eye roll she’d given when the other man had glanced away momentarily. So he’d waited, and a few minutes later she’d managed to escape.  
  
When she engaged the Indian, he settled in to watch her fight. Something he doubted he’d ever get enough of seeing. Only, when the man had sliced her arm, he’d seen red. Blood red.  
  
And lost it.  
  
No one touched what was his.  
  
No one!  
  
His fists and fangs had been a blur of motion as he ripped into his opponent. Making the man bleed like he’d made his girl bleed. The smell of her blood on the air had his demon in a frenzy. At any other time – say when he was the one doing it – he would have enjoyed the scent. But right now, it only made him mad.  
  
Mad enough to kill.  
  
To draw out his torture until the other man begged for death.  
  
“I am vengeance. I am my people’s cry. They call for Hus, for the avenging spirit to carve out justice.”  
  
“Yeah? Well, I’m William the Bloody, and you picked the wrong girl to exact revenge upon. She’s mine.”  
  
“Then you, too, shall pay.”  
  
“You can try.” Then Spike’s features changed into that of his demon.  
  
The Indian cowered in fear for a moment, then he stood up and his body disintegrated into a swarm of bats and dispersed.  
  
“Bad as Drac,” Spike muttered under his breath, staring for a moment at the empty space. Another whiff of the Slayer’s blood had him rushing to her side. He knelt down beside her and drew her into his arms.  
  
“Come on, Slayer. Wake up,” he murmured softly. She was still bleeding from the gash in her arm, and Spike ripped the sleeve so he could lap at the blood and get the flow to dissipate.  
  
“Are you licking my arm?” Buffy asked groggily as she came to. “’Cuz, I just have to say…ewwww.”  
  
Spike stopped what he was doing, his human mask sliding into place as he lifted his head to look down at the Slayer.  
  
“Gotta stop the bleedin’.”  
  
“And you can do that?”  
  
“Yeah. Beside…vampire here. Can’t let good blood go to waste. Would be a shame.”  
  
Buffy felt like she’d just entered the Twilight Zone. Spike was teasing her?  
  
“Uh huh…”  
  
“Come on. Let’s get you home.”  
  
“Home! Oh my god! My turkey dinner!”  
  
“It’ll keep, ‘m sure. If not, Peaches can track down another bird for ya’. Hear he likes the animal stuff.”  
  
“Peaches?”  
  
“Angelus, my poof of a grandsire.”  
  
“Angel?”  
  
“Yeah, that’s the git.”  
  
“Angel’s here? In Sunnydale?”  
  
“Careful, pet. I might actually think you care.”  
  
“Well I don’t. He left _me_ , if you remember,” she huffed.  
  
“Can’t say that I do.”  
  
“Oh, that’s right. You were off with your skank ho girlfriend. Something about torturing your way back into her good graces.”  
  
“Watch your mouth, Slayer. ‘m not above takin’ you over my knee.”  
  
Her anger and hurt at his absence made her careless, and the words were out of her mouth before she could take them back.  
  
“I’d like to see you try,” she muttered.  
  
“Oh, love, I was hopin’ you’d say that.”  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Buffy’s arm was really starting to ache. Though he held her carefully in his arms, the slight jarring of his footsteps seemed to radiate through her injured limb until tears threatened.  
  
“Hush now, pet. We’re almost there.”  
  
She didn’t have the strength to see where “there” was.  
  
Spike managed to hold onto her and still get keys from one of his pockets, a slight jingle sounded while he figured out which one to use. The door opened with a slight whoosh, then Buffy felt herself carried up a few flights of stairs. More walking down a carpeted hallway this time, the fragrance in the air hinted at something besides a place on the seedier side of town. Another key insertion and the door swung open, almost silently. She felt him kick the door shut behind them then walked farther into the room.  
  
Buffy cracked one eye open and gasped. The room was beautiful and tastefully decorated, even if the colors were darker than what she would have chosen for herself. But still…  
  
“Wow!”  
  
“You like?” His voice seemed suddenly shy, like her approval seemed to matter to him. Spike gave a quick twirl of the living space of the apartment, and Buffy could see an open kitchen with the latest gadgetries, a huge living room with a sliding glass door that opened onto a spacious balcony, a state of the art entertainment system that dominated one whole wall, and the dining area that even had a place setting laid out for each of them.  
  
Someone had been busy.  
  
And the anger that she’d felt at his abandonment evaporated into nothing.  
  
“You did all this? For _me_?”  
  
“Couldn’t have my slayer shackin’ up in warehouse, could I? Now, let’s see to that arm of yours and then I can show you the bedroom.”  
  
Buffy couldn’t help the leap in her pulse at his words.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Naked, Spike carried an equally naked Slayer in his arms as he exited the bathroom and all but ran to the bedroom. He’d spent the last fifteen minutes cleaning her up, and turning her on, but vowed their first time in their new place would be spent in bed.  
  
Though it had been very close.  
  
Spike swept the covers from the bed and dropped the Slayer on the mattress, causing her to shriek in surprise. He moved off to close the custom-made blinds and curtains that covered the windows dominating the master suite. Wouldn’t do for him to turn to a pile of dust after all the haggling he’d gone through to get this place ready in so short a time.  
  
And he’d not even had to flash some fangs to see it done with all possible haste. Amazing what a little dosh could do…  
  
A few clicks of his remote and the blinds whirled shut, clicking softly as their edges came in contact with one another. Then the soft hum of the curtains as they ran across the track sounded in the room. Ever the romantic, not that he’d ever admit it to anyone, Spike lit several candles about the room before returning to the Slayer’s side.  
  
She’d gone shy on him with their brief separation, which he found endearing. But that would soon change. He’d have her panting just as hard as she’d been in the shower. More so.  
  
He wanted to take his time, renew his claim while he slowly brought her body to the height of pleasure, but after their foreplay in the shower, and seeing her now, stretched out invitingly on his bed… if he wasn’t buried between her parted thighs in the next few moments, he’d lose his mind.  
  
She seemed to sense it too. Her shyness suddenly leaving her in a rush, her eyes zeroing in on his arousal. The naughty girl crooked her finger at him, giving him a come-hither smile. That inviting look went straight to his dick and caused it to jump.  
  
Spike crawled onto the end of the king-sized bed and prowled up the length of her body. In his mind, he thought of all the ways he was going to drive her crazy before sinking into her tight passage that seemed made just to fit hi—  
  
Her warm hand gripped his cock and robbed him of his thought process.  
  
His head fell back and he thrust himself in her tight grip, eager to feel the delicious friction of her hand wrapped around his length.  
  
“Fuck, Slayer! Tighter, baby,” he groaned. He bit his lip, pumping his hips a few times. “Mmm… so good.”  
  
He pulled back suddenly, far enough that her hand was left grasping air.  
  
She didn’t have time to voice her complaint before her breath left her in a rush as Spike buried his mouth between her legs and proceeded to lick and nip at her clit. Followed by two of his fingers being pushed inside her pussy.  
  
Buffy’s hips shot off the bed, driving his fingers deeper. She moaned his name, possibly a few swear words. Her fingers sifted through the damp curls on the top of his head, surprised at how soft they felt. Another lick and nip by his teeth and tongue and she gripped his hair tightly in her fists, grinding his face into her mound. Thoughts of her friends waiting patiently at Giles’ place for her return evaporated into thin air while he pleasured her with his tongue. Nerves already stretched taut from their foray in the shower, and it wasn’t long before she was bellowing her release, her body seemingly shattering into so many pieces.  
  
She didn’t have time to recover, as a moment later, Spike was surging up her body and burying his cock deep inside her with one powerful lunge. Her legs came up automatically to wrap around his back, her hands struggling to find purchase on his shoulders, his body moving rhythmically inside her slick passage.  
  
In the middle of the bed, the two figures strained against one another as their movements increased – each desperate to reach that peak where nothing else mattered. Their preternatural strength making it impossible to hurt the other, they let themselves go. Gentle lovemaking took a back seat once Spike smelled the scent of his blood on the air where the Slayer had scraped her nails down his back – sending his demon into overdrive and desperate to reclaim the hellcat beneath him.  
  
“Spike?”  
  
Her confusion tore through his haze, and he tried to reassure her.  
  
“’S alright, pet. Jus’ let go.”  
  
It seemed to be the right thing to say, because she nodded into his neck then bit his shoulder to keep from screaming her release, her body milking him for all he was worth. Spike had no such compunction about the noise. He couldn’t control his demonic visage from appearing when her blunt teeth nearly broke through the skin, a savage growl emanating from deep in his throat before he struck unerringly at his mark, his fangs penetrating deep as his own release overtook him.  
  
Buffy gasped at the intensity of his bite. It hadn’t hurt anywhere near as bad as before, when they’d been using the crypt to hide from the soldiers chasing after them, she doing anything in her power to get Spike better. She whimpered in pain even as another climax claimed her body.  
  
Spike tore his mouth from her throat with a fierce snarl, roaring his possession of the Slayer as his release flooded her womb. When he could focus again, his mouth still smeared with her blood, Spike stared down at the Slayer, daring her to refute his claim.  
  
She shook her head; after all they’d been through the last several days, she’d not deny him this. Only, his amber gaze seemed to darken more, as if…  
  
“Yes,” she managed to gasp out. “Yours…”  
  
The pain in her neck ebbed a bit at her capitulation even though the wound still continued to bleed. Then it didn’t matter because he was kissing her. The pain, their violence, it all receded as his tongue slipped between her parted lips to mate with hers. Blood filled her mouth. His blood. Binding her to him for all eternity. Before she could comprehend what he’d done, he was placing a chaste kiss upon her lips and returning to her neck, where he lapped at the trails of blood making their way down her chest from the puncture wounds he’d made. Afterward, his lips and tongue nuzzled the fresh mark he’d given her until the holes had closed over.  Then he rolled to his back, tucking the Slayer against his side.  
  
Peace seemed to envelop Spike, surprising given his evil undead status. But it was true. For once he had something that was all his. It didn’t matter that she was the antithesis to everything he was.  
  
“You’re mine now, pet,” he murmured against her ear, his hand idly caressing her body. “Won’t put up with your watcher tryin’ to take you away from me.”  
  
He waited for the Slayer to protest, for her to set boundaries on his claim, but she’d fallen asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Buffy’s back arched away from the mattress as she stretched herself awake, smiling happily for no apparent reason. Her hands played about the soft covers beneath her fingertips, frowning at the unusual texture. Silk? When did she get silk sheets—  
  
Her eyes shot open, her body jackknifing into a sitting position. A quick glance at the window revealed that it was still dark outside, and her eyes searched frantically for a clock, wondering how long she’d slept. Spike’s whereabouts were a close second.  
  
As if her thoughts had conjured his appearance, he was there, leaning against the doorjamb. Clad only in black jeans that molded his thighs and crotch… indecently so. He’d not bothered with button or zipper, and her eyes zeroed in on the tuft of dark curls that disappeared into his pants. Her tongue darted out to lick at lips suddenly gone dry.  
  
 _‘I’ve got to be insane,’_ she thought, thoroughly mesmerized as he walked towards her. More like stalked her. Smirk firmly in place, growing wider when she began to fidget in anticipation on the bed. And who wouldn’t fidget as bit-by-bit his jeans slipped down his hips, exposed a hard cock jutting proudly from a nest of dark, wiry curls. It should have been comical, the way his pants fell down his legs. But not Spike. No, it was like the movement had been choreographed, so that all he needed to do was step out of the puddle his jeans made once he stopped beside the bed.  
  
She felt the glide of the silk sheet as it was drawn down the length of her body, exposing herself an inch at a time to his piercing gaze. Goosebumps broke out on her flesh, the sheet pulled down over her breasts and hardened nipples, then her abdomen and legs until she was completely exposed.  
  
His smirk was gone now. Instead his face was a study in concentration, like he was trying to decide where he might want to start. She lay there trembling, eager for his touch, and when it came, it was like a bolt of lighting went straight through her body. A cool palm ran the length of her leg from ankle, up over her knee and towards her mound, but stopped midway up her thigh. She groaned, twisting to her side so that she brushed against his fingers, his knuckles making contact with her clitoris and causing her eyes to flare wide at the sensation.  
  
Her hand shot out and locked around his wrist, holding it still while she ground herself against him.  
  
“Want something, pet?” he whispered huskily, eyeing her body as it writhed against his fist.  
  
“Spike,” she mewed plaintively.  
  
“Onto your stomach, then.”  
  
Buffy released his hand and did like he asked, her body thrumming in anticipation as he climbed onto the mattress and knelt between her legs. Her shivers were back in full force when he trailed both hands up either side of the back of her legs until they closed around the globes of her ass, giving them a gentle squeeze. Then farther still, skimming her lower back and beyond, up towards her shoulders. The slight massage felt heavenly and turned her muscles to mush, forcing her body deeper into the mattress. His fingers started their track back towards her hips and she hissed slightly as razor-sharp nails cut into her skin leaving two sets of shallow claw marks that oozed slightly with her blood.  
  
Before the sting from the open wounds had fully registered in her mind, Buffy was drawn to all fours at his urging. She felt the head of his cock as it probed at her opening, and then nothing else mattered because he was sliding home, stretching her in the most delicious of ways. The agonizing slowness of his movements making her eyes roll up in her head, her neck arching invitingly.  
  
When he was buried as far as he could go, Spike stopped, and Buffy thought she’d die if he didn’t move. Like _now_. She tried to pull away so that she could thrust herself back against him, but his grip about her hips tightened, forcing her to remain still. To just feel him. Filling her so completely.  
  
She did, and her inner walls tightened reflexively around him, producing a husky growl of appreciation that sent chills up her spine. His cock twitched inside her, drawing her attention back to where they were so intimately joined. It was only then that he moved, pulling out of her and thrusting back inside. Slow, arduous movements that stretched her, the head of his cock brushing against that special spot, triggering bursts of electrical pulses that snaked along her limbs and caused her toes to curl.  
  
Unable to stand the intense pleasure any longer, her hands collapsed beneath the strain of holding herself upright, her head colliding with the pillow to remain there. Her ass still hiked high in the air, held in place by Spike’s unyielding grip. All she could do was whimper and moan while he drove his cock into her over and over again, stringing her body tighter as it built towards that final release. She felt one of his hands leave her hips, a choked gasp that was his name issuing forth when his thumb and forefinger began to work her clit. Soft, sensual circles gave way to harder flicks and twists, the movement of his hips increasing to match the intensity of his manhandling.  
  
The hold of his right hand was punishing, fingers digging tight into her flank while he slammed into her pussy, the sound of smacking flesh loud in the otherwise silent room.

Buffy tried to bite her lip to keep from shouting, but she could feel it bubbling up inside her. Slim fingers gripped the downy softness beneath her head, holding it over her mouth as she gave vent to the scream that proclaimed her release.  
  
Spike released her oversensitized clit at the beginning of her orgasm and returned it to her hip, holding the Slayer in place while he pumped into her for all he was worth. Her tight sheath began milking his shaft and Spike clenched his jaw, determined to ride out her climax. He stared fixatedly at the open cuts on her back, until he realized the scent of her blood was enough to send him over the edge.  
  
He wanted this to last. Hell, every time he touched her he wanted it to…  
  
She was in his blood. Calling to him. Drawing him to his demise. One he’d eagerly take. For each time he was like this with her, he died a little death. Each climax wrung from his loins, drawing him in deeper. He craved her… this. This mindless motion of burying himself deep inside her. Craved her like he craved blood. _Needed_ her like he needed blood.  
  
If he had a coherent moment to think about it, he’d probably run away screaming. But around her, he couldn’t. All he could think about was the Slayer. How she’d saved him, gifted him with her blood. Accepted him without pause.  
  
That thought sent him falling after her. Her name a curse, a benediction, torn from his lips. Choked out of him as he poured himself into her. Utterly spent, Spike collapsed over her back, panting much the same way she was.  
  
Knowing that the position couldn’t be too comfortable for the Slayer, he roused himself enough to pull out of her and shift next to her on the bed, her knees now able to slide out from underneath her so that she was lying flush against the mattress. He propped himself up on his elbow, taking note of the claw marks on her back. They weren’t very deep, and he knew for certainty that they probably stung the worse for it. Bending over her, his tongue laved at each line until they closed over. She’d hissed at his initial touch then fallen silent, allowing him to tend to her.  
  
When he finished, he leaned away. Spike was surprised that she hadn’t harped on him about what he’d done, only to smile wildly when it dawned on him that drawing her blood hadn’t fazed the Slayer in the least. That she’d actually gotten off on the slight pain. Definitely something worth exploring in the future.  
  
Seeing that she’d settled back into sleep, he reluctantly climbed out of bed. Spike prayed the Slayer would sleep until he got back. He had an Indian to track and a grandsire to avoid…. at least for a little while longer.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
When Buffy awoke next, she knew right away she’d slept through the night. Her eyes opened, taking in the minute light that rimmed the specially made blinds and curtains covering the window.  
  
She sat up, barely displacing the vampire beside her.  
  
 _‘Vampire beside her?’_  
  
Her eyes widened comically as memories came flooding back. The Indian. Spike’s sudden appearance. Him taking her home.  
  
 _Home?_  
  
Buffy looked around, blinking in astonishment. It hadn’t been a dream. He’d actually gotten them a place. Decorated it, too. A soft smile graced her lips at his actions, forgetting for a moment that she was in bed with her mortal enemy. Had sex with him. Repeatedly. The memory of their last encounter staining her cheeks a bright red.  
  
Dear god, she’d been marked and bitten and clawed open and left to bleed. And she’d _liked_ it. 

A lot!  
  
She had to get out of there. Willow was probably wondering where she’d gotten off to, and she still had things to get for her Thanksgiving dinner, which reminded her... she should be at Giles’ starting on it right now. Scrambling out of bed with no thought to her nudity and searched frantically for something that would tell her what time it might be. She lucked out in the kitchen, spying the digital readout that told her it was still early enough that she’d have time to take a shower and dress before she needed to be at her watcher’s.  
  
Making her way to the bathroom, Buffy spied her discarded clothes. More like the clothes that had been torn from her body as Spike had sought to inspect her injuries, but who was she to quibble over particulars. She turned the water on in the shower, sighing blissfully as she stepped inside and the heated spray pelted sore, stiff muscles.  
  
Her thoughts soon turned to the vampire still sleeping in the bedroom.  
  
There’d be no way she could explain away Spike’s reappearance in Sunnydale. As it was, she was going to have to find something to wrap around her neck to hide the latest bite marks he’d given her. Her fingers ghosted over the puckered scars, smiling in remembrance. No, explaining the vamp’s return was definitely out of the question.  
  
When she’d scrubbed herself clean, Buffy cut the water off and snagged a towel to wrap around her body. She snuggled into the plush terry, the L.A. girl in her telling her that no expense had been spared here either.  
  
Back in the bedroom, she walked towards the open walk-in closet, praying that there would be something for her to wear… at least until she could go home and get changed.  
  
Buffy blinked in surprise as one whole side of the closet revealed various tops, skirts, and pants in her size. Someone really _had_ been busy! Her fingers skimmed along the various items, noting with some surprise the multi-colored garments. With Spike, she would have expected everything to be either black or red, since the vamp seemed rather partial to those severe colors for his own wardrobe. She grabbed the first thing that seemed to go together – and that would cover her neck discreetly. A sleeveless turtleneck confection in a soft butterscotch color and a pair of brown slacks; the brown boots she’d had on earlier would go well with the outfit.  
  
Stepping out of the closet with the clothes she’d chosen, Buffy walked towards the dresser. She opened drawer after drawer, taking note of the array of lingerie stuffed within. Again her eyes widened in astonishment. She grabbed a neutral set, marveling as the tags revealed the appropriate size, and didn’t bother to question how he’d known… or why he’d bothered.  
  
Her eyes locked on the vampire buried beneath silk and down.  
  
She dressed quickly, senses tuned for any indication that he might be waking. He didn’t twitch the entire time, and it was only when she was dressed, that she expelled her breath.  
  
Now to make good her escape.  
  
Buffy made it all the way to the door when she stopped. Spike had done the courtesy of leaving her a note when he’d left before. Walking out without so much as a by-your-leave caused her heart to clench.  
  
She walked into the kitchen and started looking through drawers for pen and paper to jot down where she’d gone, finally locating one in the drawer next to the telephone and didn’t even bother to question why he’d have one of those.  
  
It took her five tries before she managed to convey her whereabouts, trying for a balance between needy!Buffy and independent!Slayer. She walked on tiptoes back to the bedroom, slipping the folded piece of paper onto the pillow she’d been using. As she stared down at his boyish features, Buffy couldn’t help smiling at the picture he made. Her hand reached out of its own free will, tracing the hard line of his cheekbone. Then she went one step further and brushed her lips across his. Holding her breath all the while and praying he wouldn’t wake up and demand to know where she was going.  
  
As quietly as possible, Buffy retraced her steps out of the room. Then out of the apartment, making sure the door locked behind her. She’d paid no attention earlier when Spike had carried her from the church, too caught up in the pain radiating along her arm, and just prayed that wherever it was, it wasn’t too far from Giles’ house. She walked hurriedly towards the stairwell, her footsteps muffled by the carpet in the hallway; her eyes took note of the numbers on each door and realized that they were on the third floor. Well, she assumed as much since all the numbers began with a three.  
  
Buffy flew down the stairs – sure enough, three flights of stairs – and let herself outside, blinking momentarily when the sun shone brightly in her face. She looked around, one hand arced above her brows to reduce the glare, trying to get her bearings. Her jaw dropped when she realized exactly where she was.  
  
Leave it to Spike to practically move in next door to her watcher. The vamp definitely had a screw loose. Seriously. Either that, or a death wish. Looking at the townhomes across the street, Buffy shook her head in befuddlement and jogged towards Giles’ place.


	6. Chapter 6

Spike’s eyes opened the moment the front door closed. His gaze settled on the folded piece of paper the Slayer had left on her pillow. A slight grin twisted his lips; he couldn’t decide if it was from the note, or the soft touch upon his cheek, the gentle press of her lips against his own before she turned and walked out of the room, that caused it. The demon in him believed it was the note she’d left – proof of his ownership, that she was letting him know where she’d gone. Though he didn’t need a message telling him what he already knew – that the Slayer’s destination was her watcher’s house right across the street.  Yet, as his fingers traced over his lips, that softer side, his inner William that refused to be crushed, told him there was another reason that made him smile. After the mess that was his busted relationship with his sire – the thought of the chaos demon still caused him to curl his lip in disgust – he had to admit it was nice to receive an honest show of affection from another. Even if the other happened to have been his mortal enemy. 

Spike liked to think they’d moved beyond that. 

He snagged the paper and opened it, his slight smile blooming into a full-blown one of amusement. _‘Ah, Slayer.’_ He could practically feel her warring emotions as she’d determined what to write. The beginning of her note was all business, stating matter-of-factly that she was preparing Thanksgiving dinner at her watcher’s and needed to leave to get things started. Then, as if sensing how abrupt she was, her tone softened, shyly exclaiming her delight over the apartment and clothes. She left no salutation, just signed her name. 

He brought the paper to his nose, inhaling the lingering scent of Slayer. Then wished he hadn’t when his body responded to the fragrant aroma. Sighing, mentally willing away his semi-hard erection, Spike allowed his eyes to close. 

The Slayer was safe enough with the watcher and her mates. Though he’d found no trace of the Indian that had attacked his girl, he felt confident that she would come to no harm during the daylight hours. And, worst case, she could lure the thing away from the watcher’s home and back over here; between the two of them, they could take out the shape-shifting demon. 

Pleased with his logic, he drifted off, succumbing to his body’s demand to rest. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Buffy tested the knob, and finding that it turned easily, she let herself in with a cheery, “I’m here!” 

“Gathered as much, what with the shouting and all. Honestly, Buffy, you _do_ realize it’s still early yet.” 

“Yes, but the turkey has to cook, and I have to get it ready. I told you that yesterday, Giles,” Buffy explained, walking through the living room and into the kitchen where Giles stood leaning against the counter sipping his tea. 

Giles, getting a good look at the Slayer’s bare arm and the long, faded red line that stretched from her elbow to her shoulder, indicative of a recently healed wound, nearly spewed his drink all over the kitchen floor. “Good lord, Buffy! What happened?” 

“Father Gabriel is dead.” Well, that was true, at least.  

“Dead? What… never mind that. What happened to your arm?” 

_‘Play it cool, Buffy.’_ “I’m getting to that.” 

“Let’s try and get there a little faster, shall we?” 

“Chumash guy. Fight. I got hurt. Fast enough?” 

“Really, Buffy…” 

“I’m fine, Giles. Sp— er, that is, it was a clean cut, so I just went home and wrapped it up. No big.” She held her arm up for his inspection. “See? Yay for slayer healing.” 

Giles stared intently at her arm. “Hmmm… It appears to be almost healed.” 

_‘Yeah, thanks to Spike and that tongue of his. But, can’t very well tell Giles that, now can I?’_ Instead she pasted on a cheery smile, saying, “Told ya!” 

“So, what happened afterwards? Am I to assume that we no longer have to deal with a vengeful Indian on the loose?” 

“That would be a no, and it’s Native American.”

“Sorry?” 

“We don’t say _Indian_ , Giles. And, no, he’s still around. At least I assume so.” She’d passed out, but when she’d come to as Spike had lifted her into his arms, she’d not noticed a body lying around. 

“You assume so? Wouldn’t you remember if you’d killed the _Native American_ or not?” 

“Normally? Yeah. But…” 

“But what? Honestly, why the reticence all of a sudden?” 

“Red-i-what?”

“Oh, I give up.” 

“Sorry, Giles. Just got a lot on my mind. Thanksgiving and all,” she called out as her watcher threw up his hands in disgust and walked out of the kitchen. _‘Not to mention a bleached-blond vampire that had taken up residence right across the street from Giles’ home.’_  

Buffy had just pulled the defrosted turkey out of the refrigerator to prepare it for the oven when the front door opened and Willow walked in. 

“Giles, have you seen… _Buffy_! You’re all right! I was so worried! Riley told me that you would meet me back at the house. Which I can only assume he meant to say dorm, although—” 

“Breathe, Wills.” She grinned at her friend to soften the blow of cutting her off. “And sorry I flaked. Ran into a bit of a problem last night at the church, and since home was closer, I went there instead.” Buffy just barely managed to not touch her nose and see if it was growing at the blatant lie. Honestly, Spike’s evilness was already rubbing off on her! 

“Oh. Are you okay?” 

“Yeah…scar’ll be gone by tomorrow, thanks to some kickass slayer healing.” She winked at her friend and waited for her watcher’s retort.  

Three. Two… 

“Really, Buffy,” Giles groaned, right on cue. 

Giles sat in his chair and opening a book to read. Maybe if he looked thoroughly engrossed, his Slayer wouldn’t rope him into doing something else for the holiday “feast” she was preparing. 

The two girls shared a look and started giggling. 

Buffy excused herself and went back into the kitchen, checking on the progress of her turkey and other fixings. Willow, seeing an opportunity to speak with Giles alone, hurried to his side and out of sight of Buffy. 

“Angel’s here,” she whispered. 

“Angel? You saw him?” 

“Yes, at the coffee shop. He was stalking Buffy.” 

“Not very stealthy of him, allowing you to see him. Does Buffy know?” 

“No. At least I don’t _think_ so,” Willow told him. 

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.” 

Willow mimicked locking her lips and throwing away the key.  

~*~*~*~*~ 

Buffy set the turkey on the table and smiled. Her dinner preparations had gone off without a hitch – no burned _anything_ , for once.  

Though there had been a close call with the rolls when she’d been daydreaming about Spike… and what he might be doing at home, all alone. Whether or not he was awake. Wishing she was there right now. His body sliding up and over her. Filling her.  

It had been Willow’s question that had jarred her from mental images of Spike fisting his fingers in her hair, yanking her head back almost forcefully to expose the long column of her throat to his heated gaze. Fangs digging deep as he bit into her flesh, drawing sharp pulls of her blood into his mouth that caused her to throb with need.  

She’d whirled towards the stove, exclaiming over the rolls, desperate to hide her suddenly flaming face. Shocked that she’d almost orgasmed while standing there daydreaming – in her watcher’s home, surrounded by her friends, no less. 

“Smells good, Buffster,” Xander commented wanly. He swallowed the rising bile as the normally pleasant aroma caused his stomach to revolt. Feeling Anya pat his hand reassuringly, he glanced over at the ex-demon who was now his girlfriend – at least he thought he’d called her that this morning. The syphilis was playing havoc with his memory and he prayed that everyone would eat fast so that they could go out and put an end to the demon that had caused his debilitating disease. 

“Yeah, Buffy,” Willow added. “Who knew? And no burning or anything.” 

“Yep! Just call me Chef Buffy now.” She grabbed the carving knife and fork and moved to Giles’ side. “Here. I’ll let you cut it up. My cutting skills… well… you know.” Buffy made a jabbing motion into the air before handing them to her watcher. 

“Erm, quite.” 

Giles had the fork and knife poised on the turkey and had just leaned forward to begin carving when an arrow whizzed by his head and lodged in the opposite wall. 

“Get down!” Buffy shouted, her eyes locking on the Indian poised near the open window, his bow aimed in their direction. Another crash sounded somewhere behind her, and Buffy looked over her shoulder to see two more trying to enter through another, larger, window. She needed a weapon. Glancing around at her friends and watcher scrambling to find some type of cover behind furniture, she mentally added backup to her list. 

A strangled scream from one of the Indians sounded somewhere outside Giles’ apartment and her gaze returned to the windows. Finally noticing that the sun had gone down. 

Spike.

It had to be. 

Buffy didn’t know how many others were out there, but felt better knowing that the vampire was nearby. Returning her attention to the first Indian, she easily vaulted over the table, snagging the steel candle holder as she went. Wielding it like a shield, she easily deflected the arrow meant for her chest, and before he had a chance to load another into his bow, she threw the candlestick at him, knocking him in the head and sending him back out the window. With the threat in front of her seen to, Buffy turned and took on the other two Indians, launching herself at them she sent both men, as well as herself, back out the way they’d come. 

Already planning for the impact, Buffy tucked her body and rolled as she hit ground until she was once more on her feet. The sight that greeted her caused her to freeze in momentary shock – Angel was doing his best to fight one of the Indians near the water fountain. She’d forgotten that Spike had mentioned he was in town. Though, to give herself credit, after the fighting and the cleanup and the apartment reveal – not to mention the sex, lots and lots of sex with orgasms aplenty (and man, she was channeling her inner Anya now) – her former vampire boyfriend’s appearance in Sunnydale had completely slipped her mind. 

Her inattentiveness cost her. Though, thanks to Spike’s, “Slayer, duck!” the arrow aimed at her heart, lodged into her shoulder instead, dragging a shocked gasp from her lips. The force of the projectile hastened her descent to the ground; the arrowhead managed to enter and exit her flesh, leaving the arrow firmly embedded in her shoulder, and Buffy had just enough sense to turn so that the part that was protruding from her chest wouldn’t collide with the ground and cause further damage. 

The sounds of fighting continued around her. Having gone into shock, she didn’t hear the inhuman roar that caused a momentary pause in the avenging Indians, recognizing a revenge-filled battle cry when they heard one. No, once again, the Slayer’s eyes slid shut and she allowed the peaceful oblivion of unconsciousness to consume her. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike didn’t think the Slayer could get into any trouble in the time it took for him to get showered and dressed. The sun had barely set, and last night’s reconnoiter had turned up no trace of the Indian that had taken a swipe at his girl. He should have known better.  

Trouble had a way of following the Slayer. 

He’d managed to arrive just as she came vaulting out through the shattered window, the two Indians she’d taken with her showing surprise on their faces at her actions. He could have tanned her hide when he saw her easily leap to her feet in a defensive move worthy of his admiration, only to watch her stare in stupid fascination while his grandsire battled with another. 

Spike knew he wasn’t going to make it in time; the arrow was already soaring through the air. His mouth had closed over with fear for a brief moment before he’d managed to shout out a warning. 

He watched the arrow hit. Watched as her body jolted with the impact. Watched as she crashed to the ground and lay silent. 

His mind had shut down then; his anguished roar rent the air and caused friend and foe alike to pause for a moment in bewilderment. 

It was pitiful how quickly he decimated the enemy. Fist and fangs were a blur as he worked his way through five of the six remaining Indians – the last Angel had dispatched before Spike had a chance, or he would have shoved his elder aside and done it himself. He didn’t draw out the fight, wanting only to kill and return to the Slayer’s side. To see the extent of her injury. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Giles heard the anguished roar and figured Angel had been hurt. He jumped up, searching frantically for a weapon and darted out the front door. Outside, he gaped with astonishment at the scene before him; his weapon slackened in his grip and nearly clattered to the ground. Dead bodies lay strewn about the courtyard, but it was the figure that finished off the last remaining Indian that caused the watcher’s eyes to bug. He looked around for a trace of the Slayer and found her crumpled on her side, blood pouring from where an arrow was lodged in her shoulder. Unmindful of the others, he moved to her side and would have bent down to assess her injuries but at the “Don’t!” shouted by Angel and a warning growl erupting from the Spike, he thought better of it. 

Giles watched as Angel motioned him to move away while he simultaneously walked in an intercept path between him and the other vampire. Giles took a cautionary step towards Angel, his eyes never leaving Spike. When he finally gained Angel’s side, Giles could do no more than stare as Spike walked towards his fallen Slayer and knelt down, drawing her carefully into his arms.  

Anya, Willow, and Xander – miraculously recovered from his bout of syphilis at the Indians’ death – came tumbling out of Giles’ apartment. 

“Holy evil undead!” Xander exclaimed, grounding to a halt at the sight of Spike holding an unconscious Buffy in his arms. “Angel! Do something!” Xander demanded, glaring at Spike. Though he cared nothing for Angel at whose side he now stood, the sight of his friend being held in the arms of a deadly, evil vampire, far outweighed his hatred. 

Angel sighed, staring down at Spike, at odds over the vampire’s behavior. Part of him wanted nothing more than to rip Buffy from his arms and beat the boy to a pulp for daring to poach upon his territory. The Slayer was his whether or not he’d formally claimed her. But that was Angelus talking. He’d seen the marks on Buffy’s neck. Marks that wouldn’t be there without her wholehearted agreement. 

Besides, after witnessing the easy defeat of the band of Indians at the younger vamp’s hands, Angel wasn’t quite sure he’d be able to take on a possessive Spike and actually win. 

He sighed again, drawing out the only human mannerism he seemed to have kept. 

“He’s not going to hurt her, Xander. She’s his…” He didn’t want to say “property” knowing the term wouldn’t go over well with either the boy, or the watcher. Instead, he just left it at that, adding, “Spike’s claimed Buffy. He couldn’t hurt her even if he wanted to.” 

“Claimed?” the boy questioned. 

“Oh, good lord!” Giles exclaimed. 

Xander and Giles spoke at once, eyes firmly glued to the vampire that calmly stood up and made to leave the courtyard. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Buffy barely reacted as she was pulled against something soft, smelling faintly of smoke and leather, fighting against waking and the pain hovering at the edge of consciousness. But when she felt herself lifted and cradled against a hard chest, her eyes fluttered open. 

“Spike… hurts…” she couldn’t help but whimper. 

“I know, love. But, Spike’ll get you fixed up and you’ll be right as rain in no time.” 

“…keeps happening to me…” she mumbled. “Tired of getting beat up.” 

“Well, if you’d been paying attention, you wouldn’t have gotten shot,” he growled. “Too busy moonin’ over the poof to watch your back.” He could feel his temper start to boil anew, this time directed at the girl held carefully in his arms. But the Slayer’s next words easily deflated his ire and produced his trademark grin, which he directed towards the vampire who stood within hearing distance. 

“Forgot he was even here.” She laid her head against his chest and wearily closed her eyes. They opened a second later, her lethargy suddenly gone, when it finally dawned on her what she’d said… and what it meant. Wincing slightly, she turned her head, and sure enough, Angel was standing there. Along with everyone else. 

“Crap.” 

She lifted her head to see Spike arch his eyebrow. 

“Not exactly what I had in mind either, pet.” 

Buffy snorted. “You moved in right across the street from my watcher, Spike. What did you think was going to happen?”  

“Didn’t know I was here before now, did they?” Spike looked away from the Slayer, his gaze settling on Angel. “Poof didn’t either.” At Angel’s narrowing eyes, his grin broadened. 

“Think if I close my eyes, they’ll disappear?” Buffy asked, drawing his attention back to her. She was looking up at him, her face hopeful. 

“You could try, but I seriously doubt it, love.” 

“You’re no help,” she huffed, then winced at the pain in her shoulder the movement caused. 

Buffy turned back to her friends, smiling slightly at their looks of astonishment. 

“Hi, guys!” She waved half-heartedly, _so_ not looking forward to the coming conversation with both the Scoobies and her watcher. Angel seemed pained but resigned. And, hey, it wasn’t like she owed him any explanations; he’d left her, not the other way around. 

Spike could feel the Slayer’s apprehension and forestalled any conversation. 

“Come on, love. Let’s get that shoulder looked at.” 

“You’re not going anywhere with her, Undead Guy,” Xander declared from the safety of Angel’s side. 

“Think you could stop me, boy?” Spike’s eyes narrowed on the boy, his grip tightening about the Slayer possessively. 

“Spike,” Angel growled. 

“Sod off, Peaches!”

“Spike,” Buffy pleaded, her hand coming to rest on his cheek. A movement not lost on any of them. 

“What? Am I supposed to invite them back to the place for some tea and biscuits?” he demanded incredulously. 

“It would go a long way towards showing them you mean me no harm,” she reasoned. 

“Couldn’t hurt you if I tried,” he grumbled. 

At her pointed look, he relented.  

~*~*~*~*~ 

“Make yourself at home,” Buffy told her friends. “I’m just gonna go get this thing out of my shoulder.” She kept her voice even, not wanting to alarm her friends. 

Xander’s eyes bugged as he stepped inside Spike’s apartment. The girls wandered off to exclaim over the décor, but his eyes were trained on the entertainment equipment dominating one wall. He checked to make sure he wasn’t drooling while plotting ways to get invited over. _‘Double-date,’_ he thought crazily. He and Anya could go out with Buffy and Spike, then come back and watch movies on the huge screen that he just knew was High Definition Plasma. Heck, he could let bygones be bygones; he was all about second chances. Yep, that was him. Second Chance Harris. He brushed past Giles to get a closer look at the wall-mounted television. 

“Two point two seconds to win Xander over,” Buffy commented just loud enough for Spike to hear as he carried her to their bedroom to see to her wound. “I figured it would be longer than that.” 

Spike snorted but didn’t comment, kicking their bedroom door closed behind them. He strode swiftly into the bathroom and shut that door too – not that it would do anything to prevent his broody grandsire from hearing. After easing the Slayer down onto the toilet seat, he started the shower. 

“I really liked this top,” he heard her comment wistfully. 

“I’ll buy you another one.” 

“You don’t have to… it’s just...” 

Spike shrugged out of his duster and hung it on one of the hooks. The rest of his clothes quickly followed. Then he went to work on the Slayer’s, starting with her boots and working upward. When he got to her shirt, he snagged his pocket knife from his jeans and carefully sliced the thing to bits so that it slid off without disrupting the arrow, afterward folding the blade back up and tossing it aside. Her bra was next, leaving her bare but for the arrow protruding from her shoulder. 

He looked down to see her fighting back tears and leaned down to brush his lips across her own. 

“This is gonna hurt, Slayer, and I’d really rather you not make a sound and bring the Poof runnin’.” 

Buffy nodded. 

“I can clip ya, if you like?” 

She shook her head; she didn’t need to be knocked out. “I won’t scream.” 

“All right. ‘m gonna break the tip off first. Then slide the arrow out the front.” 

Again Buffy nodded and prepared herself for the pain. Before she had a chance to blink, the arrow was snapped and pulled free, then Spike’s mouth was licking at the gaping wound at the front of her chest, stemming the flow of blood, before he turned her and did the same to the back. Tears slipped unchecked from her eyes, the only evidence of her pain. 

“Such a brave girl,” Spike murmured against her ear, lifting her into his arms and depositing her beneath the hot spray of the shower. He climbed in behind her and set about getting her cleaned up. 

The sharp, agonizing pain gave way to a dull throb as Spike worked his magic with his hands. He started with her hair, shampooing and conditioning it, and Buffy gave herself over to his care, allowing him to turn her this way and that until she was clean, and her body thrummed with something other than pain. 

Her head fell back against his shoulder as one hand cupped her breast and the other slid down her body to delve in the curls covering her mound. She moaned, then bit her lip at Spike’s gentle rebuke to keep quiet.  

“Make you forget all about the pain, pet,” he whispered in her ear, lips closing over the lobe and sucking it into his mouth. He teased it with tongue and teeth, worrying the malleable flesh until he felt her legs give way. Ignoring her body’s protest as he pulled his hand away from her pussy, Spike guided her hands towards the two hand rests he’d had installed specially. 

“Hold tight, love.” 

Buffy nodded, gripping the two metal handles tight; her eyes rolled up as she felt herself lifted and impaled from behind on Spike’s cock. She ignored the pain clutching the rings caused her, concentrated solely on the feel of her vampire lover sliding slowly in and out of her body, and she wondered vaguely how he could incite her to such passion so quickly. 

And so often. 

“Spike,” she whimpered, desperate for the release he could give her. Thrilling when his hands tightened on her waist and he slammed into her, giving her what she needed. Her mind centered solely on his dick, how it pushed its way inside her body and demanded that she accommodate him. And she did, her pussy stretching like it was made for him, and him alone. 

Her climax washed over her suddenly, causing small tremors that originated at her core and spread outward to wrack her body, until she hung limply from the two hand rests while Spike pumped a half a dozen more times and joined her. 

Spike was grateful for the extra large water heater that enabled the hot water to continue to fall long after other showers would have gone cold. It allowed him a moment to recover from the intensity of his orgasm before he slid free of the Slayer’s body. Another scrub down and another rinse for them both, then he cut off the taps and stepped out of the shower.

The Slayer’s two wounds were seeping slightly, so he pulled the modified first aid kit from beneath the sink and set about bandaging the two holes. Afterwards, he hustled her off to the closet to get her something easy to slip into – a tank top and sweat suit, sans bra. Not that she really needed one of those anyway. He helped her dress then pulled on a t-shirt and jeans. 

Together they made their way out of their bedroom and towards the others. 


	7. Chapter 7

Xander hadn’t moved from his spot in front of the television. Though the screen was still blank, his eyes had that glazed-over look of the truly happy. Anya was muttering to her boyfriend under her breath about how he wasn’t allowed to wear his “orgasm” face for anyone – or anything – but her.  

Spike barely repressed a chuckle at the forward girl. His gaze swept around the room, taking note of the petulant vampire hiding in the corner and the slowly-working-his-way-towards-being-pissed watcher. 

_‘Bugger!’_ The watcher had found his good stuff and by the looks of the new bottle nearly half-empty now…  

“Oi! Save some for me, you sod!” the vampire griped at the human. “Should be drinkin’ the swill in the fridge if you’re not gonna appreciate what you’ve got in yer hand…” 

“Spike!” Xander exclaimed, finally tearing his eyes away to see the vampire standing in the apartment’s living room. “You’ve got…” He waved vaguely at the state-of-the-art entertainment system behind him. “…just… Wow!” 

“Remote’s on the table.” 

Xander’s eyes glazed over once more, causing Anya to hit him in the arm in complaint. 

“Buffy! Hey!” Willow greeted. “Uh… hi, Spike…” 

“Red.” The vampire inclined his head. 

“Hey, Wills…” 

“Buffy! Spike, you old dog!” The watcher roared his hello, raising his glass to the couple in salute. 

Buffy stared at Giles slouched in one of the plush chairs in the living room, her mouth hanging open in astonishment.  

“Don’t mind him, pet. Watcher’s a little thick in the gills, is all,” Spike whispered in her ear. 

“Huh?” She was still staring at what was supposed to be her stodgy former watcher tossing back glass upon glass of a dark amber liquid. Hell, she was surprised he wasn’t forgoing the glass and drinking straight from the bottle, but figured that would be much too uncouth for the man. 

“Drunk, love. The man’s wasted.” 

The television roared to life – Xander having finally figured out how to work the controls – drawing her attention away from her inebriated watcher. 

_‘I’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone,’_ she thought suddenly. What in the hell had possessed her to invite her friends back to Spike’s place? And why was nobody shouting their disapproval upon their reappearance?

She didn’t count the brooding glare from Angel seated in the shadows at the dining room table; his was a perpetual scowl she’d long since gotten used to. Buffy thought he’d worn the same expression when he told her that he couldn’t be with her any longer, stating in his superior, know-it-all tone that their relationship – or whatever it was they’d had at the time – would never work, and that he was leaving Sunnydale, and her, so she could be with someone “normal.” 

Well, she’d tried normal and it hadn’t suited. Parker had turned out to be as much of a prick as Angelus had ever thought of being. 

Angel had no right to be angry with her for her choice in partners. 

She leaned into Spike and was pleased when his arm wrapped around her back and drew her close. 

“So, Buffy, spill!” Willow exclaimed excitedly, momentarily forgetting her own dating woes. “You and Spike? How long have you been seeing each other?” 

Buffy and Spike warily took a seat in the living room. Buffy snuggled close to Spike, unwilling to be separated by so much as an inch. “Uh… a while?” she squeaked. 

“Slayer let me have a li’l nibble after our run-in with the GI Joes a few days back,” Spike added. 

“Oh good lord!” Giles spewed his drink; he wasn’t quite drunk enough to hear that his Slayer had opened a vein for her mortal enemy. “Whatever possessed—?” 

“He saved my life. It was only fair,” Buffy explained, cutting off what was sure to be a long diatribe on the pitfalls of taking up with another vampire; she really wasn’t in the mood. “And, hey, still alive here.” 

“And the… uh… claim?” Giles asked. 

“Um…” Her head lifted to seek reassurance from Spike. 

“Yeah, boy, be a good lad and tell them how you’ve made the Slayer your property,” Angel growled, his eyes flashing amber. 

Buffy stiffened at Angel’s malevolence, but it was nothing compared to Spike’s reaction. 

Spike surged to his feet – displacing Buffy in the process – fists clenched as his demon burst forth. His growl reverberated around the room causing Willow and Giles to blink in wide-eyed fear; Xander was still staring at the television, speed-dialing through the channels, oblivious to the brewing situation or his girlfriend’s repeated attempts to gain his attention. 

“So what if I am?” Buffy’s voice was loud in the ensuing silence. She stood next to Spike, glaring at the vampire that had gained his own feet and stood behind the watcher’s chair. “He treats me a lot better than you ever did, _Angelus_.” 

Angel turned beseeching eyes towards Buffy, trying not to bristle at her choice of names. “You know that wasn’t me. I didn’t have a soul. I—” 

“Well, Spike doesn’t have one now. Yet, I’m still standing here… relatively unharmed. And it’s not because it was Spike doing the hurting, either. In fact, he’s saved me several times already since being back.” 

“Last night?” Giles guessed. 

Buffy spared her watcher a brief nod before locking gazes with her ex again. 

“It’s the claim, Buffy. He _can’t_ hurt you. It doesn’t mean he won’t go after your friends.” 

“That’s your gig, mate,” Spike growled. 

Angel turned venomous eyes on Spike. 

Buffy saw red. 

“Get out! Or so help me, Angel.” 

“But Buffy…” 

“Don’t ‘but Buffy’ me. You think I don’t see things?  Don’t know how close Angelus is to the surface even now. You’re just pissed because it’s Spike and not you.” 

Angel opened his mouth to speak, but Buffy held up a hand forestalling him. 

“Just go. You’re not needed here. Go back to Los Angeles.” 

“I’m just trying to look out for you,” Angel whined. 

“You gave up that right at graduation,” she told him, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Angel stared at her a moment before stalking to the door; he threw a look over his shoulder, the yellow eyes of his demon he’d been unable to shake in his anger promising retribution for the perceived slight done him by one of his own. “This isn’t over, Spike,” he mumbled for the vampire’s benefit. 

Spike just smirked at Angel, though his mind was already mapping out the steps he’d have to take to ensure the vampire’s standing invitation into his home was revoked. He wondered if the Slayer would mind owning a condo. 

“Okay… phew!” Buffy breathed a sigh of relief. “Now that _that’s_ out of the way, how about a movie night?” 

“But… the football…” Xander complained. “It’s a Thanksgiving tradition.” 

Spike stalked over and snagged the remote from the boy’s hand, frowning at the lack of fear from the boy. His brows drew together upon witnessing Xander’s petulant look at having his toy taken away. He turned away, disgusted at himself, grumbling under his breath about everyone’s lack of respect at the Big Bad in their presence. Hell, even the watcher was back to draining his bottle of good scotch. 

He stomped back over to the Slayer, glaring down at her. She smiled up at him, uncaring about the demon that he’d yet to shake off. 

“’m not joinin’ you bloody white hats,” he grumbled. 

“Didn’t ask you to,” came her sweet reply. 

“Though, I might fancy a spot of violence every now and again.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t mind the company.” 

Spike narrowed his eyes at her easy acceptance. 

“Ain’t baggin’ it either.” 

“I’m sure we’ll work out something.” Buffy arched her neck invitingly, causing Spike to gulp. 

“’m evil—” The reminder wasn’t only for his benefit. 

Buffy snagged his hand and drew him down beside her on the oversized chair, leaning tiredly against his side. After the last few days, the wounds suffered at the hands of the Indians, the anxiety over preparing Thanksgiving dinner – not to mention the worry she’d been dealing with while trying to explain to the others about Spike being in her life – she was both physically and emotionally drained. 

“Mmmm hmmm…” Her eyes closed. The sound of her friends’ chatter slowly faded, lulled by the soothing rumble that had started in Spike’s chest. 

Spike glanced down at the sleeping Slayer and could feel himself softening. Dru had been right, the girl _had_ been all around him. By coming back to Sunnydale he’d been able to see the truth of his sire’s words.  

Fate – in the form of a secret military contingent – had granted him this chance with her. And he’d be a fool not to take it. 

And Spike was anything but a fool. 


End file.
